04-27-2020, 07:20 AM
AND THEY'LL CARRY YOUR HEART IN THEIR TEETH.
As the cool dark seemed to sap the heat from the earth, from the sand and his fur, the beast let himself rest. Perhaps it was foolish, to cross the great desert alone, infested and murky as he was, when the sun was at its highest, when he thought he would reach the jungle in an hour. The desert had stretched ever longer as the day went on, the jungle had felt no closer, until the sun had begun to set. Dirt sighed, let himself lean back harder, the bark pressing into his skin. He felt the rough, scorched bark of the tree give against his weight, crumbling and smearing his fur with charcoal. He'd rested for some time, pretending not to hear the quiet noise of a small animal's approach, chewing and licking at the insect bites on his skin. Easing the itching. Soothing.
It finally spoke up as it stared, watching him regain his bearings. He turned his great head to look at the creature. Vulpine, and a bit larger than he'd expected. Quiet little thing. Orange eyes scanned over the fox, noticing that he seemed to hold himself with authority. Dirt was too weary at this point, to fake himself, to pretend. Thirst had long since outweighed his mindgames. He was not here to goad, or challenge.
"Dirt," He said simply. "I am a fool."
He laughed a little, weak. Raw.
"I didn't think this place was so far out."
Mirages and all. The heat had a way of playing tricks. The sun had its own games, here. Dirt turned his head, digging his nose and teeth through his neck fur, untangling and then producing what was left of the rabbit carcass, the fragile ribcage. Bits of flesh still clung to it. The bones were still oily, red. He carefully laid it at his own feet, in full view of the vulpine. A pitiful tribute from a pitiful man.
"I've heard tales of The Pitt, of blood and war, the land beyond the sand sea. I come not to see, but to be part of it. Make my blood it's own."
He stood up carefully, his legs protesting. Wanting to show this stranger, to prove something. He was not frail, just terribly unwell. Exhausted. He did not want pity, nor did he need it. What use was a melody that fell on deaf ears. What he did need, however, was something to drink.
It finally spoke up as it stared, watching him regain his bearings. He turned his great head to look at the creature. Vulpine, and a bit larger than he'd expected. Quiet little thing. Orange eyes scanned over the fox, noticing that he seemed to hold himself with authority. Dirt was too weary at this point, to fake himself, to pretend. Thirst had long since outweighed his mindgames. He was not here to goad, or challenge.
"Dirt," He said simply. "I am a fool."
He laughed a little, weak. Raw.
"I didn't think this place was so far out."
Mirages and all. The heat had a way of playing tricks. The sun had its own games, here. Dirt turned his head, digging his nose and teeth through his neck fur, untangling and then producing what was left of the rabbit carcass, the fragile ribcage. Bits of flesh still clung to it. The bones were still oily, red. He carefully laid it at his own feet, in full view of the vulpine. A pitiful tribute from a pitiful man.
"I've heard tales of The Pitt, of blood and war, the land beyond the sand sea. I come not to see, but to be part of it. Make my blood it's own."
He stood up carefully, his legs protesting. Wanting to show this stranger, to prove something. He was not frail, just terribly unwell. Exhausted. He did not want pity, nor did he need it. What use was a melody that fell on deaf ears. What he did need, however, was something to drink.
code by spacexual
[table][tr][td][/td][td]
"the maddened illusion that hides the sick squirming reality of what i am. of what we all are, when you strip away the pretence that there is more to a person than a warm, wet habitat for the billion crawling things that need a home. that love us in their way."
- MAG 032
[/td][/tr][/table]- MAG 032